Out in the Cold
by noenigma
Summary: SG-1 trapped in a blizzard on an alien world.
1. Chapter 1

_This one challenged me more than most. I came up with the idea in the middle of a very cold and blowy Wyoming winter, and I wanted to capture the beauty and barrenness of that winter and make the reader experience it with me...and in the process, I dragged our favorite team right into the storm._

Disclaimer: Purely for fan purposes; no copyright infringement intended.

There were reasons SG teams rarely ventured through the Gate into winter. Almost without exception, warm and sunny planets won out over the colder destinations...not because the SG teams were wimps, but because the risks inherent in every trip through the Gate multiplied, along with the expense of outfitting a team for cold weather survival, as the temperatures dropped.

Occasionally, necessity or the hoped-for benefits of a mission would override these concerns, and a team would find themselves stepping out not into the balmy air of temperate forestlands or the dry heat of hot desert but the chilly, blowing winds of winter. Every precaution was taken to ensure the team wouldn't be placed into unnecessary danger-there was more than enough of that already naturally present when stepping practically blind onto an unexplored and unknown planet quite possibly inhabited by an evil race with all the advantages of a several- thousand-year headstart.

Unfortunately, the atmospheric and meteorological studies of p2G-129 didn't have sufficient data to predict the suddenness or the severity of the planet's winter storms. Clear though chilly readings were still being received even as SG-1 stepped through the Gate. But, that had changed drastically before the Gate had shut down behind them. By the time the techs back home read the last bits of data the MALP had transmitted up until shut-down and General Hammond was informed there was a possibly dangerous situation developing on the planet, the team was already in serious trouble.

The telemetry reported a sudden and dramatic drop in temperature coupled with plunging barometric readings and escalating wind. A full-blown blizzard had descended on p2G-129 in those few short minutes. The personnel at the SGC could only wait and hope the team would immediately scrap the mission, redial, and return to home base. Wide-eyed and tightlipped like spectators of a fatal accident, they waited long past the time it should have taken the team to reach the DHD and dial home. Afraid of opening the Gate from his side and blocking SG-1's only avenue of retreat, the general bit back his need to know what was happening for as long as he could. Finally, though, he ordered the address redialed.

The Gate connected without difficulty, but the MALP's sensitive equipment was no match against the elements, and its readings were erratic at best. The pictures it sent back were blank screens of white; its audio transmissions nothing but the howl of screaming wind. Repeated calls over the radio did not raise the team, and the general was forced to shut the Gate down without making contact. An emergency, weatherproofed pack with an artic tent and heater along with extra rations, water, clothing, outerwear, and thermal sleeping bags and blankets was prepared and sent through the Gate. It arrived on the other side of the wormhole and stayed there, becoming covered with a thick layer of snow and doing absolutely no good for anyone. That was the best Earth could do for her offworld children. Reinforcements could not safely be sent. They were on their own.

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Gray skies and the crisp smell of approaching snow had greeted their arrival. Colonel O'Neill had frowned up at the thick cloud cover overhead. When he'd studied the reports only moments before giving his final ok to the mission, none of the MALP readings had indicated a strong likelihood of snowfall. He hadn't been enthusiastic about proceeding with the mission, but that had had little to do with the weather conditions. In fact, the chilly temps and crusty snowdrifts the MALP reported didn't sound bad at all next to the record-breaking cold and snowfall Colorado Springs was currently experiencing. True, he would have preferred not to have to traipse through them, but such was military life.

No, his reluctance with this mission flowed from his distrust of anything Tok'ra, particularly missions outside of his control and dictated by intel provided by the less-than-forthcoming snakeheads. He'd have rather sat the whole thing out, but the MALP had failed to give him a reasonable justification. He'd been left with no choice but to see the team was properly outfitted, accept the General's final go-ahead, and lead the way through the Gate. From the looks of things, he had to wonder if the MALP had been withholding vital information in cahoots with the Tok'ra.

As he walked down the stone steps from the Gate, he was thankful the mission was to only take a few hours on the outside. Even if things didn't pan out (and with the Tok'ra involved, they more than likely wouldn't) they should still be home safe and snug before nightfall. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a blizzard in unfamiliar territory with backup he couldn't rely on-backup that wouldn't factor the welfare of his team into their plans. He'd have felt marginally better if Jacob had been one of the Tok'ra involved. It might not be his top priority, but, regardless of the snake in his head, he'd at least look out for Carter. Instead, they were to join up with Tok'ra they had only just met and with whom they had no experience.

As it was, their Tok'ra contacts never arrived. Two of the three were later found frozen still quite a distance from the Gate; the other was never found at all. Trusting in their abilities, they had arrived on the planet with only minimal protection against a cold they expected to be in and out of quickly. They paid the price for their arrogance.

O'Neill's team had not made the same mistake. In their packs, they carried not only the regular SGC supplies designed to help them survive the usual known-as well as some only so-far-guessed at-dangers to Gatetravelers but also the mandatory cold weather survival kits. But, even so, they were ill prepared for the suddenness and ferocity of the unexpected storm they faced. Fire starter and matches, protective eye gear, and foil survival blankets were no help against the storm's initial, violent fury.

They'd only had time for a cursorily look around before a freezing wind whipped up driving the days-old snow on the ground into wild eddies of biting cold. Visibility dropped to nothing. To compound matters, fresh snow also began to fall although it never made it to the ground. The wind viciously sucked it in and hurled it at the intruders from Earth.

The team had no time to pull out the heavier, winter gear they carried in their packs. They had no time to secure themselves to each other or to the Gate to keep from being separated and becoming lost in the disorienting, swirling, roaring tempest of snow and wind. No time to even set their feet and stand against its howling advance. By the time the first gust had roared its way past them, each team member was cut off from the others and on their own.


	2. Chapter 2

Teal'c, who'd stayed at the Gate itself to survey this new world, had managed to grab its side and lower himself back behind its supporting wall. Breaking through the icy crust of the snowdrift previous storms had formed there, he hunkered low behind the wall and shouted loudly into the wind for his teammates. The wind threw back his words and swallowed up his radio calls so that he couldn't hear his own voice let alone any replies the others might have sent. With resignation, he scooped away the snow around him to make a small cave and fumbling with hands numbed by the cold even through his gloves, pulled a silver, foil blanket and the heavier gloves from his pack to provide some protection against the storm. It was impossible for him to locate the others. He was effectively blind and deaf. He could only hope they also were able to find some degree of shelter to wait out the storm.

The snow and wind which whipped at Teal'c's thin blanket and threatened to rip it out of his hands also covered the momentarily stunned form of Daniel Jackson. The initial onslaught of the storm had driven him back up the two steps he'd descended upon arriving on p2G-129 and had sent him tumbling off the back of the Gate. He had landed with enough force to knock the air out of him and painfully jar his left shoulder. Fighting for breath in the relentless, biting wind he lay sprawled in the swirling snow. Then, he shook himself out of his stupor along with the quickly accumulating blanket of snow falling over him to struggle to his knees. The wind pushed him back down, but fear of freezing to death where he fell spurred him onto his feet.

If he'd managed to lurch back into the wind just a few feet, he would have bumbled into Teal'c and what little shelter there was. Instead, he turned his back to the wind and let it carry him along with its load of snow on its screaming, tumultuous way.

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Sam had cleared the bottom step when the gust hit. She'd been slammed painfully along the side of the stone platform where she had desperately fought for a purchase against it rough side. For one brief instant, she had managed to hold onto a rocky protuberance, but the next, buffeting blast of wind had torn her hands away from it and thrown her to her knees. In the chaotic rushing of the wind and with the snow pelting her face, she lost contact with the platform, and for all she tried to reach it again, she might as well have been miles away. She struggled to turn into the blast and circle back to the Gate. But, it was impossible for her to make headway against the wind. The freezing snow burned into her eyes and down her throat, and she was all too aware that she had no way of being certain of her heading.

She pawed with fingers she could no longer feel at her radio but had to give it up as useless. With a cry of frustration, she turned her face away from the wind and stumbled to her knees. She pulled at her pack and painfully and slowly managed to dig out the heavier winter gloves and the foil blanket the colonel had insisted they carry...just in case. She was able to pull the gloves on over her thinner pair, but the wind tore so viciously at the blanket she balled it back up and thrust it back into her pack. With her hands numb and encased in two pairs of gloves, she didn't have a hope of holding onto it in the wind.

She clumsily fished out her canteen and carefully drank what she could of the already cooling water. She couldn't afford to become dehydrated, and in these conditions she wasn't sure the water wouldn't freeze inside her canteen. What she needed was a sheltered spot, but she had none. Afraid remaining still in the open would be signing her own death warrant, she struggled to her feet and allowed the buffeting wind to push her along with it. She'd have to trust her emergency locator beacon would allow the others to find her when the storm abated: she couldn't spare any more of her limited strength fighting the wind to stay near the Gate.

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O'Neill had not been far in front of the major when the first blast struck. He'd hunched his shoulders and managed to stay on his feet. Looking back over his shoulder, he was dismayed to discover he couldn't see Carter, let alone Daniel and Teal'c who'd been even further behind him. He shouted her name, but if there was an answer he couldn't hear it over the roar of the wind. His instincts told him to rush to the spot he'd last seen her; that though the snow blocked her from his view, she was still there. But, he knew he couldn't trust his instincts in this situation. She most likely wouldn't be where he thought she'd been, and he'd lose not only her, but himself as well.

He'd been headed right to the DHD when the curtain of snow had descended on him. If he could maintain that heading, he had a good chance of reaching it. No matter how desperately he wanted to reach her and the others, he had to keep his feet planted firmly in the right direction. He'd do them all more good reaching the DHD than he would vainly searching for her blind. So, struggling to walk a straight course while being assaulted from every side by the wind and blinding snow, he walked away from her.

There was rope in his pack, but without something to which to tie it, it was worse than useless. His compass was a similar waste; even holding it directly in front of his face, he couldn't make out the dial. Or anything else, for that matter. His eyes stung with the effort to see through the biting snow and wind. If he did manage to locate the DHD, he'd be unable to find the proper symbols to dial. By then, the cold would have rendered his hands too numb to differentiate between its raised symbols.

Still, his best bet was to head for the DHD and pray he bumbled into it. It would provide an anchor and be a limited shelter against the wind if nothing else. And, he'd be able to send for help as soon as the storm calmed. Warmer bodies than his, ones not stiff with the icy chill would be needed to track the others to whatever shelter they'd found and bring them home again. He fought the cold weather survival gear out of his pack before hunching even more into the wind and cautiously moving forward. The ceaseless, swirling mass of snow and wind obscured everything. Trapped in the whiteout, he quickly lost all sense of time and distance and was unable judge if he had already overshot the DHD.

It was too late, much too late, to decide he should have turned back for the others instead of pushing on into nothingness. His existence quickly narrowed down to placing one foot in front of the other and moving ever into the full force of the wind. He didn't dare stop. His team, his responsibility to them, and all they had come to mean to him through their years together mandated he not give up. He had to keep moving, had to keep seeking a way to reach them and bring them safely home. So he trudged on and prayed they had found shelter to withstand the storm.


	3. Chapter 3

Teal'c huddled within his makeshift haven with his foil blanket stretched overhead, the cold stonewall behind the Gate to one side, and icy walls of snow to the others. The shelter was cramped and cold, but it was all that stood between him and the menacing storm. He'd stuck his canteen under his parka to keep his water from freezing and there was food enough in his pack for now. The buildup of moisture from his breath and body heat was a concern. When the storm broke, damp clothing would hamper his search for the others. Unfortunately, it was a problem not easily solved and would only grow increasingly so as time went on.

Periodically, he tried to raise the others on the radio, but he'd long since ceased expecting an answer. He ached to be of service to them, to those who had looked beneath Apophis's golden emblem in his forehead and the symbiote in his pouch to see not an enemy but an ally and later a friend. They had given him a life of freedom, a chance for redemption, and a means to strike back at his enemies. He owed them his life, his hope, and his allegiance. His inability to offer them aid now in their time of need wore into his innermost being. The forced inactivity not only caused his muscles to scream for action, but his very soul. It would not, however, help O'Neill and the others to follow them out into the storm and be lost as well. He could do nothing but wait, conserving his energy until the time he might be of help.

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As much as she regretted her decision to fall back from the Gate, Sam knew she had had no choice. Even going with the wind, she was reeling from exhaustion and the cold. She would have collapsed long since if she'd had to continually fight her way against the buffeting storm. She doubted she could continue much further as it was.

The relentless wind, blinding snow, and numbing cold had robbed her of her senses, and she understood all too well, death hovered only one step ahead of her. The cold alone would kill her if she couldn't keep moving or find shelter soon. And beyond that, she could easily step off a cliff or into a not-quite frozen stream never knowing it was there until it was much too late-and in this chill, perhaps not even then.

She was helpless against the storm. Helpless to save herself and helpless to save the others. But nagging at her spirit was a pressing, overriding sense that there should be, must be, something more she could do than mindlessly let the storm drive her before it like a lost sheep. When things went bad at the SGC, the general looked to her for answers; when things went sour on the field, the colonel turned to her to figure out their next step. Their unwavering belief in her abilities wasn't something she shared or appreciated. It was, in fact, a heavy burden she'd always suspected would one day crush the life out of her. The belief that she had to solve everything, that everything depended on her was absurd and unreasonable. Yet, its weight bore down on her and taxed her dwindling strength just as much as the storm. And it was just as inescapable.

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Daniel had quit feeling his feet sometime before. After the painful pins and needles that had been shooting through them up to that point, it was a relief. A dangerous relief. He increasingly found it almost impossible to keep his footing, and he was vaguely aware that sooner or later he'd lack the determination and energy to drag himself up once more off the frozen ground. That would be the end of it. The thought didn't bother him all that much. He would have liked to know the others were ok-that they'd found shelter and held on to what it would take to survive through the storm. But, his mind almost as numb as his feet, the immediateness of his own death didn't reach him.

The final fall, when it came, barely registered in his awareness. He noticed the give of the snow beneath him like a soft mattress. He noticed that here on the ground the howl of the wind seemed less menacing, less penetrating. He turned to his side and curled into a ball and noticed that what above had been one mass of swirling, unforgiving whiteness down here were individual flakes that dropped and rose with the wind in an intricate dance. Heat built up in him making him tug off his hat, pull off his gloves, and unzip his parka. But, he was too relaxed, too peaceful to rouse enough to remove it entirely. Instead, he settled back and watched the dancing snow.

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Sam stumbled over Daniel's inert form seconds later and came crashing down over him saving his life though neither were aware enough to realize it. Her fall and subsequent frantic attempt to disentangle herself from him brought him to his senses. He desperately threw her off and scrambled about on his hands and knees feeling for the clothing he'd just discarded. Finding the gloves, he quickly pulled them on. Gasping down the frigid air in big gulps, he tried to understand what had just happened as he pulled himself up to an unsteady stand.

Sam was only marginally more aware of what had happened herself. The continual howling of the wind had sparked a matching roar in her head that would have kept her from thinking clearly even if the cold hadn't already slowed her thought processes. If either of them had been steadier on their frozen feet, they might have tottered unknowingly away from each other. But, their staggering, lumbering movements brought them stumbling into one another and sent them once more into a tangled heap.

Daniel called out, "Who's there?" His voice was a rough croak, but as he had inadvertently grabbed hold of Sam's shoulder to pull himself up his call was close enough to her aching right ear to penetrate the wind. It took her a moment to process what she was hearing after hours of hearing nothing but its incessant howl. By then, he had managed to right himself and pull her along with him. Clinging to him to keep from falling again, she realized she was no longer alone.

"Daniel?" she cried and knew he had heard her from his enthusiastic thumping on her backpack. Each thump reverberated through her head, but she didn't care. Things suddenly seemed unimaginably better. But, the wind still tore at them, threatening to pull them from each other's arms and send them once more into tortured, frozen aloneness. She fumbled with her pack to find the rope it held. Tying it was impossible with her numbed hands and unwieldy gloves. Working the gloves off was a painful process. Finally, though, they did come off, and she was able to painstakingly secure herself to him.

As she worked, she could vaguely hear his voice, but the wind made it difficult for her to make out his words. Her own throat ached from the bitterly cold air, and she found shouting back to him too exhausting and painful to be worth the effort. Still, it was good to hear his voice. She tackled the process of replacing her stiff, frozen gloves and hoped she wasn't damaging her frozen hands in doing so. Daniel leaned into her and shouted into her ear, "Have you seen Jack or Teal'c?"

It was a question she didn't want to answer, didn't even want to think about. "I'm sorry, Daniel..." she shouted back. His understanding and comforting grasp on her shoulder in response brought tears to her eyes. They froze on her lashes and threatened to seal her eyes shut. She didn't dare rub them off for fear she'd rub her skin off along with them.

She fumbled instead with her canteen, but the water had frozen. "Do you have water?" she called through the wind to Daniel only to discover after a moment or two of waiting that his was gone as well. Closing her eyes and gritting her teeth she unzipped her parka and placed the canteen within its warmth like she should have done hours before. She was already well on the way to transforming into a block of ice, what difference would it make? A warm fog rose from inside her parka and briefly melted her frozen tears but then was gone vanishing into the cold. She clamped back her pained cries as the canteen's chill penetrated her clothing and zipped her parka closed.

"We've got to keep moving!" Daniel shouted at her, and in agreement they began to stumble forward. Of her teammates, Daniel was the one she would have chosen to have beside her in the storm. Her slower pace and shorter stride would have held Teal'c back and been a drain on his energy. It would have taken all she had in the attempt to keep up with him whereas she and Daniel were a well-matched pair, moving almost as one with a natural affinity that both conserved their own strength and imparted it to the other.

The colonel...their strides might have matched enough to keep them from pulling one another down with the rope binding them together, but there were other more constricting things between them that would have made the trek all the more difficult. The sense of responsibility and failure on both their parts for one. He'd feel he was failing her as her commanding officer; she'd feel she was failing him in not coming up with a workable solution. And in the face of impending death there were too many things they'd left unsaid...things that should be said, should have been said years ago, and yet hadn't been because they couldn't be. Things that, if this was the end, needed to be said all the more and yet, speaking them would strip all hope from the situation and what chance would they have after that?

The hopeless muddle of their emotional entanglements would bind them and trip them and drain what little strength they had to fight for their very survival. No, it was better it was Daniel she had stumbled across. Daniel who loved her openly without fear of reprisal or consequence. Who loved her like a sister and friend and owed her nothing. They could stagger along, drifting with the wind, keeping each other from falling, pulling one another up if necessary, and drawing immeasurable hope and strength from one another's presence without the crippling weight of what lay between herself and the colonel.

They'd pulled out their survival blankets, trusting that if the wind tore a corner from one of their grasps the other would be able to hold on to their corner and the whole thing wouldn't be lost. Wrapped together in the blankets, they had a little protection from the wind. And together they were able to keep up a more sustained effort than they had separately. Their circumstances had improved dramatically. Perhaps not enough to keep them alive when exhaustion drove them to a standstill or when night fell, but if the end did come...by some unspoken agreement, they'd both know it. They'd meet it together.

She could trust Daniel to not leave her to deal with her loss and guilt alone. The colonel...if the end came with the colonel, she could be sure he wouldn't. Somehow, he'd find a way to give her his last bit of strength and order her to carry on without him. The fact that she'd die hating him for it wouldn't stop him. He'd done it in Antarctica, and he'd do it again here given the chance. She was glad he wouldn't have the opportunity.

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Shortly thereafter, they lurched to a stumbling stop against the crusty edges of a large snowdrift. Their senses and thought processes were so dulled by the cold that they both made futile efforts to continue to trudge through it before the knowledge sunk in that they-and several feet of snow- had been driven up against some structure or natural formation. Using their numbed hands like claws they began to dig into the bank to form a small hollow. They lined it with one of their foil blankets before collapsing into it. After lying tangled together for a few minutes, they managed to work up enough energy to stuff their packs against the bottom of the opening and block the worst of the wind and blowing snow. Then shivering violently, they worked their stiff arms out of their parkas and stuffed them into the top of the opening before wrapping up together inside the other blanket.

When the worst of the shivering had passed, Sam drew out a flashlight. She fought her frozen fingers to get them to cooperate enough to switch it on, and then they blinked in its weak flickering light. She gazed at her watch in disbelief. They'd dialed the Gate a lifetime ago, yet her watch insisted it was barely three hours later. She checked Daniel's watch and then hers again. She even checked the date, finding it easier to believe they'd wandered over a day than that they'd only been out in the cold a few short hours. But both their watches confirmed they had not trudged into another day.

The shorter time meant they might have avoided frostbite and the specter of amputated fingers, earlobes, or toes. Their aching, burning, tingling body parts might recover given enough time. And perhaps the colonel and Teal'c still had time to find shelter if they hadn't already. But it also meant they were that much further from rescue. Somewhere in a world that seemed a lot more than 95,000 light-years away, General Hammond was reading a report and thinking about lunch. He wasn't thinking he had an offworld team fighting the elements for their very existence. It would be hours yet before he'd be assembling a rescue party to retrieve them from this cold, barren world.

The Tok'ra though...yes, the Tok'ra might arrive with an Al'kesh to ring them up any time. Or not. She didn't share the colonel's suspicion of all things Tok'ra, but she'd been disappointed by them enough to know it had some basis. She'd gladly take their help if it arrived, but she wouldn't invest her hopes in them. Better to expect help to arrive later rather than sooner. Whether it came from the Tok'ra or from home.

Even once the base knew they were in trouble, help wouldn't be coming until the storm broke. The higher-ups would hold off any rescue attempt until then. And when they did come, there was little a team would be able to use to penetrate its frozen aftermath in order to find them. A UAV would never stay aloft in the wind, and without it their radio beacons wouldn't be strong enough to penetrate very far. Realistically, it could take days for help to arrive. She'd like to think they would find their own way home long before that.

Daniel thumbed his radio, "Jack, Teal'c, come in." He raised his eyes to meet hers as they waited for hoped-for answers they didn't expect to receive.

She shook her head, "The batteries will be weak with the cold, Daniel... and the storm might be interfer-"

"Daniel Jackson, is that you?" Teal'c's voice cackled through the radio in Daniel's hand.

"Yes! Yes, Teal'c! We're here...only we don't know where here is. Sam and I have taken shelter in a snow bank. We're..." What, he wondered. Blocks of ice? One stumble into a snowdrift away from finding out if freezing to death really was like falling asleep? No, he'd already come close enough to proving that one right. He looked into Sam's red, strained eyes and knew he owed her his life. She gazed back, unaware of his thoughts, her breath still coming in strained gasps and her teeth still faintly chattering. "All right. We're all right," he finally determined, and she smiled her agreement with him through cracked and bleeding lips.

They were certainly better off than they had been just moments before. They had shelter and each other's body heat to help warm them. They had rations enough for two or three days and water-once their canteens thawed. They were in radio contact with a living, breathing Teal'c, and they still had hope the colonel with his usual resourcefulness and cussedness was still among the living. They were as all right as they possibly could be considering the circumstances.

"That is good to hear," Teal'c answered. His voice was raised to be heard over the roar of the wind, but it still carried a calmness that filled their shelter with his presence and comforted them both.

Sam fumbled with her own switch, "What's your situation, Teal'c? Is the colonel with you?"

"I am fine. I also have taken shelter; however, I regret to inform you I have had no contact with O'Neill."

His words, though unwelcome, were not unexpected. "I understand," she said. To conserve battery power and to avoid bringing up fears none of them wanted to confront, they quickly signed off. Too exhausted to further improve their shelter or pull rations out of their pack, they huddled together and drifted off into fitful sleep. Burning, tingling nerves slowly reviving in their shared warmth would rouse them frequently, but fatigue chased them quickly back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The colonel had long since had to accept he'd missed the DHD and was struggling on with no idea of a destination and no way of finding his teammates. The cold had numbed his body and slowed his mind, but nothing could dull his fears and worry for the others. Could a symbiote counteract the effects of the cold? Had they managed to stay together? Or were they wondering alone as blind and cold as he was without anyone to pull them up when they stumbled and force them to keep walking when all they wanted to do was rest...lie down in the snow and sleep.

The pull to do just that was so strong, so compelling that if it weren't for his responsibility to the others he would have answered it in a heartbeat. He could distinctly recall the calm he'd felt when he'd ordered Carter to leave him in Antarctica and had finally been able to lay aside his duty to her and just give in to the cold and rest. That calm called him now, but he hadn't been relieved of duty. His obligation to her, Daniel, and Teal'c couldn't be laid aside, couldn't be shirked. He'd thought it had all been over in Antarctica only to find he'd called it too soon. If she wouldn't have recognized the futility of carrying out his last order, his failure to hold on could have left Carter freezing and starving alone on the glacier fields long after his worthless hide had been rescued. It wasn't a mistake he intended to make again.

So he ignored the siren call of that final rest as best he could and went on stumbling forward...whichever way that was. He'd long since lost his battle to go straight into the gusting wind. Unwilling to concede total defeat by turning his back completely to the wind, he'd staggered along cutting into it at a slant. Sometime along the way, he had quit fighting the fact he could see nothing. Straining his eyes in a vain attempt of making out something through the swirling, violent whiteness only endangered his sight and forced him to expose his face to the elements. Instead, he'd pulled his foil blanket down over most of his face and let it shield him. He'd always hated sensory deprivation training, but it had its purposes.

His breath condensed in his makeshift shield and moisture formed on his frozen features. He had to stop occasionally and work off his gloves to carefully pat his face dry and reapply the skin protectant from his survival kit. Before forcing his achingly numb legs to move on again, he would drink gulps of water from the canteen he'd tucked beneath his parka. The freezing liquid would burn down his throat and send its ice-cold chill through his bloodstream, and the jolt of it would silence the call to lie down and rest for the next few minutes. He welcomed it; he could use any help he could get.

A man needed 4500 kilocalories of food to keep up his energy reserves as he trudged through artic conditions. Whether they were so frozen they would crack and crumble into a hundred shattered pieces or not. So, he periodically, forced himself to gnaw on his rock-hard rations. The MRE's he carried all came with a heater pack, but as much as he longed to feel the spreading warmth of hot food, he didn't dare use one...they might need them later to melt snow for drinking, and he was afraid the warmth would lull him to sleep.

Before setting off on this ill-fated mission, he'd seen to it they all had extra rations in their packs, just in case. But that just in case had not factored in hours of strenuous activity in the cold. The mission was to have taken less than a full day...he'd packed enough food to stretch to three in a pinch. But with the cold and wind zapping up every ounce of energy he was capable of putting forth, they wouldn't last that long. He had to find somewhere to shelter out of the wind or...

He was not conceding to that or. Not now. Not ever as long as the others were out there needing him to...what? What could he possibly do to help them? Nothing. It really didn't matter whether he stayed on his feet or whether he curled up on the frozen ground and let it all fade away. He was less than useless to them. They-no, he couldn't think that way. That way led to paths he wasn't free to travel. As long as he stayed alive, he had to believe there would be something he could do for the others. He was their commanding officer; their lives were his responsibility. And so he struggled onward as though his very determination was the last thing holding them to this life.

The windswept, rock ridge he staggered into was as unforgiving as the storm. It ripped into the frozen, rigid foil of his blanket, pushed his snow goggles painfully into his face, and struck his nose. Blood ran hot down his face and froze before it hit his boot. He thought for an instant the tip of his nose had frozen so solid the blow had cracked if off, but it was only a bloody nose. Stopping the bleeding as best he could and rearranging the blanket to keep the rip from advancing, he set off again. This time with one hand firmly holding on to the rock surface beside him. It might lead him to a cave or crevice he could use for shelter.

The stark, rocky surface went on and on. Facing into the wind it had been swept clear of snow, though he slid and stumbled as he walked on the icy ground at its base. Eventually, the cliff turned. If he'd been aware of that turn, he would have realized his hand was no longer on rock, but the hard, crusty built up of ice on snow as the wind built up a drift against the now gentler, slopping hillside. From there he'd have recognized, like his teammates before him, his need to dig into the drift and find the shelter he sought in its chilly interior. But, by then fatigue and cold had numbed him of all but the necessity of moving.

He trudged on following the twists and turns of the hillside until his hand suddenly sank into the wall. Fighting for purchase to keep from falling farther into the hole he'd found, his boots slipped out from under him. He fell, thrusting his arm into the hole all the way up to his shoulder. The fall itself wasn't enough to defeat him, but coupled with exhaustion and the cold it could have delivered the killing blow. His determination to carry on faded with him into oblivion, but it was no longer the only thing standing between him and death. The hole his arm had slipped into had been covered with Daniel's parka.

His stiff, frozen arm punched into the small hollow where his teammates lay asleep and brought them both rudely awake as their frozen parkas, packs, hours' worth of blown snow, and the cold blast of the wind all came rushing in on them. Startled and disoriented, it took them a brief instant before they realized the packs wouldn't jam back into place because there was a stiff arm in the way. They pulled and dragged the rest of a body in after it. The body was stiff and no help at all. It was like pulling an ice block into their small-enclosed space. They both found themselves shivering so violently that turning on their flashlights or offering aid of any sort was simply beyond them. They fumbled their packs and parkas back into place and waited for the chills to subside.

Eventually, the intensity of her shivering faded, and Sam was able to switch on her light. In its feeble glow, they could make out the colonel's face beaded with moisture from their tight quarters and the blanket trapped partly over his face. Old blood smeared his chin, and small, watery drops of fresh slowly dripped off of the tip of his nose. His snow goggles had been twisted in his fall and only half covered his eyes. Beneath them, ice crystals still clung to his eyelashes, melting even as they stared at him.

The breath she'd inhaled sharply when the light had first illuminated his death-still features forced its painful way out of her lungs, and she sprang into action just as her flashlight batteries died. While Daniel scrambled to find where they'd stowed his, she gingerly began to pull off O'Neill's ice encrusted pack and outer clothing.

The batteries in Daniel's flashlight were only slightly less drained from the cold than hers, but they gave a few minutes of feeble light to get the job done. Daniel pulled off Jack's frozen socks, and they looked uneasily at his white-blanched feet. The sight made them glad he was unconscious and their light wasn't any stronger. Carefully, they dried between his toes and wrapped them with gauze to keep them separated before peeling the first-layer of socks off their own feet and carefully working them onto his.

Under his gloves, his hands looked only slightly better, and they repeated the process. He roused enough to moan a time or two throughout their ministrations, but that was all. They curled up along either side of him with their blankets stretched over them and shivered next to his cold frame, willing their heat into him.

Daniel thumbed his radio and called Teal'c. "We've got Jack," he told him. "He stumbled into our shelter...he's not in too good of shape, but we've got him."

Teal'c's relief at his news came through the radio as clearly as if he'd whooped in celebration. His voice though remained calm as he answered, "I am pleased to hear this news, Daniel Jackson."

Moments before Teal'c had pushed his head and shoulders out of his own shelter to find almost a foot of snow had been deposited over his head since he'd dug in. The wind was blowing just as wildly, and he still could not see the back of his own hand. By his watch, it was 5 hours into the storm, and there was no let-up in sight. He had stiffly scrambled out of his snug quarters to relieve his bladder and stretch his cramping muscles, but he hadn't dared to step away from the opening for fear he'd become disoriented and find himself lost in the storm. Night had not yet fallen, but the temperature seemed to have taken another drop anyway. The biting air had sucked the breath out of his throat and burned its way down into his lungs. He'd ducked back into his shelter just in time to receive the news of O'Neill.

He nodded his pleasure at hearing his friend still lived and began to methodically enlarge his enclosure. Chulak's storms were mild compared to those of Colorado and positively tropical next to this one, but he was familiar enough with storms to know this one would be unlikely to break before dawn. If he must remain trapped through the night, he would need the extra space to stretch out in. He worked slowly, taking frequent breaks and making sure he ate and drank enough to replenish his spent energy supplies. His water was almost gone, so he stuffed the canteen full of some of the icy snow he dug out from the walls around him and placed it back next to his undershirt. Its chill worked its way through him but the digging gave him enough added warmth to overcome its effects.

Eventually, there was room for him to worm his way down and stretch out on top of his silver blanket. Knowing his teammates were all accounted for he slipped easily into kel-no-reem.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

While SG-1 conserved their energy and warmth trying to stay alive, those back at their home base were also waiting out the storm. The general had been reopening the Gate once every hour without regard for energy expenditure and trying to make contact with the team. The cold had long since depleted the MALP's energy reserves forcing him to send new equipment through twice already. Fresh batteries or drained, the result was the same...SG-1 might as well have dropped off the face of p2G-129. Only dead air answered his calls, only swirling, blowing snow showed on his screens, and the instruments stubbornly continued to transmit lowering temperatures and gusting wind speeds.

He had teams standing by to send through the moment the situation appeared to clear, but he wouldn't know when that moment arrived. Every time he'd reopened the Gate, he'd vaporized the thousands of dollars of equipment he'd dumped through it the time before. He was willing to hang the expense, but the Pentagon was not. The experts believed that either the stranded team had found shelter and would remain holed up until the storm passed, at which point they would hopefully be able to reach the Gate and dial home on their own. Or a retrieval team would replace the search and rescue teams he had on standby. In either case, there was no need to hurry. General Hammond was ordered to cease his hourly attempts at contacts. Twelve hour attempts would be all that were hereafter authorized.

Hammond acknowledged the orders with resignation. He hadn't gotten this position without learning what battles were defensible and which were not. Getting charged with insubordination would not help bring his people home.

Unfortunately, he'd already exhausted all other options. The Asgard had not answered his call, surprise, surprise. The Tok'ra, who he would have thought would have been just as concerned about their people on the planet as he was about his, couldn't be bothered to chance blowing the mission by sending in reinforcements on an Al'kesh. In their estimation, the lives of SG-1 and their own operatives were nothing compared to the costs of compromising the operation.

His government's financial calculations and the Tok'ra's disregard made him spitting mad. In the hot dirt of Texas where he'd been raised, he would have spit at their feet, but he was a general now. The dirt beneath his polished shoes was covered by several feet of uncaring concrete. He had to settle for slamming the door to his office, soundly rattling the glass display of the StarGate system on the other side. Walter wisely turned and crept away with the cup of coffee he'd been bringing.


	5. Chapter 5

Snug between Daniel and Sam, the colonel slowly began to thaw. What had taken minutes to numb and deaden in the cold, took hours to burn and sting back into life. Outside night fell and the temperature along with it, but inside they knew nothing of that. Their time was marked only by the clamped cries that made their way out between the colonel's chattering teeth and the occasional radio check from Teal'c. He shivered violently in their arms, but there was little they could do to help. The analgesics they carried with them were only of limited use against his suffering. Sam didn't feel safe using the morphine without knowing if in his already compromised condition it was safe, and he hated the stuff anyway.

Daniel's flashlight batteries had given out not long after hers, and the colonel's had been a lost cause from the beginning. So, they endured his sufferings in the dark.

The blackness was a comforting presence to O'Neill. It shielded him for their pitying looks and hid from them his tears of pain and the raw relief he felt at finding them alive. It couldn't swallow up his groans and cries, but it kept him from having to acknowledge the tears the others shed in his behalf.

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Twice in the night, after the colonel's pain had subsided and they'd all fallen into an exhausted sleep, Sam disentangled herself from her teammates and pulled aside one of the balled up parkas to push her way out into the storm. When they'd first dug out the shelter, her hands had been too frozen to untie the rope that bound her to Daniel. But even when they had thawed enough to at least slash through it with her combat knife, she'd left it intact. She'd loosened it to allow them to move freely in the limited amount of space they had and let her make a private trek into the cold, but it was still there stretching under the colonel's sleeping form and assuring her she wouldn't be once more swept away from them by the storm.

When she had returned, she had roused her companions enough to sip at their half-thawed canteens and eat some of their rations. They weren't particularly pleased with her ministrations. She didn't blame them. Every movement was painful. Their muscles ached from their forced march of the previous day and the violent shivering they'd endured as they'd warmed. Their earlobes, fingers, and toes burned and tingled in unstilled protests of their time in the cold. Still, it beat the alternative.

The second time she roused him, Daniel ducked in and out of the shelter as quickly as his complaining muscles would allow. The storm had not dropped in its intensity, and he felt a rising fear that his previous state had held at bay. Now, safe for the moment with all of his teammates accounted for, it made itself known.

"How long can we wait it out?" he quietly asked into the darkness after he'd stuffed the parkas tightly back in place.

"I don't know," Sam said, and he could almost see her shoulders shrug. "A-"

"As long as it takes," Jack growled. They both couldn't help grinning identical idiot grins in his general direction though, of course, he couldn't see them. It was the first time he'd roused enough to speak with them, and their relief overrode their knowledge that they'd be wishing he would shut his trap and quit grousing in no time. They'd spent time in close quarters with him before.

"How are you, Sir?" Sam asked him.

"Warm," he stated, his satisfaction evident in his voice. "Where'd you two come from anyway?"

"Right here, Jack...you found us, fell right through the door," Daniel answered him.

"I did?"

"Yes, you did."

"Sorry for not knocking then."

"We'll excuse it this time, Colonel," Sam said.

"Good," he answered and then hesitantly changed the subject, "I hate to mention it, but I think I need to sneak out for a sec-where's that door again?"

Getting him to the door took all three of them. A thousand pins and needles seared into his feet and waves of weakness rolled over him so that he shook and his legs refused to support his weight. Suddenly terrified of letting him slip through the opening and disappear again into the storm, Sam fumbled in the dark for more rope and awkwardly secured him to her while Daniel draped one of the blankets over his shoulders. As he'd missed their earlier grins, they missed the scowl he gave them for their mothering. When they'd finished hovering over him, Daniel clambered out of the hole before him and helped pull him through while Sam pushed him helpfully from behind. Feeling like a helpless child, he ineffectually batted her hands away and fought to maintain his footing on the slippery snow and ice under his protesting feet. If not for Daniel's steadying hands he would have fallen.

He took care of his business as quickly as possible while noting the storm had not yet let up. No wonder Daniel had come back questioning how long they could hold out. He had no answer; couldn't, in fact, begin to guess how long they'd already been holding out. It seemed like weeks since they'd arrived on the planet. After they'd half scrambled, half flailed their way back into the shelter and once again shut out the worst of the storm, he asked, "How long has this been going on?"

"Not quite sure, Sir. You showed up roughly 5 hours into the storm... Teal'c's checked in three times since...approximately every two hours..." O'Neill didn't have the energy to cut off the major's babbling. Wiggling deeper into his spot between the two of them, he lay cocooned in their warmth and let her go on. "So say 12 hours, give or take-maybe..." she finished. Quiet descended on them. The wind's muffled howlings and his companions' soft breathing lulled him back to sleep.

He dreamt of snow. Snow that fell so quickly his footprints were covered before he'd brought his foot down to make another...and stretching behind him, his path was strewn with snow-shrouded forms. The frozen bodies of the people he loved being smothered in the never-ending snow. The smallest, Charlie; the largest, Teal'c. He turned back with a cry of dismay and frantically began to sweep away the snow from the nearest body-

"Umph!" Carter's startled cry as he thrashed against her woke him from his nightmare. "Sir?" she asked tentatively.

"I'm ok...just a nightmare. Sorry," he answered. "You all right?"

"Yeah." He could feel the tug of the blanket as she sat up. He heard her open her canteen and take several swallows. She gently knocked it against his shoulder, and he squirmed up enough to help himself. It had the strong taste of purifying tablets telling him they were drinking melted snow, their own water long gone. He recapped the canteen and thrust it out in her general direction. The darkness was quickly becoming as oppressive as the whiteness he'd struggled through the day before. They'd all be fighting the effects of sensory deprivation soon enough.

"Hungry, Sir?" she asked.

"Well, that depends. We got any MRE's left besides meatloaf?"

"I thought you liked the meatloaf?"

"I did...last week," he explained, "this week, I like enchiladas."

"Umm," she answered. "Well, either way, I'm afraid it's potluck, Sir...I can dig one out for you, but it's anyone's guess what it will be."

"Ok. Go ahead...they all taste the same in the dark anyway."

"Yes, Sir," she readily agreed with him. He could hear her digging around to get him his midnight snack. "How are your hands, Sir? Should I open it for you?"

"That might be good, Carter...thanks," he said. Listening to the length of time it took her to fumble the packaging open, he asked, "How long were you out there?" He could picture the dismissive shrug she doubtlessly gave him with her answer.

"Not that long, Sir...Daniel and I bumbled into each other and later this drift long before you fell through." She pressed his food into his chest, and he raised his still burning hands to take it from her.

"Ummm...it may be enchiladas after all...or it could be meatloaf," he said through his first mouthful. He swallowed and tried another bite, "Nope, I think it's chicken."

She laughed in response as she wiggled back down beside him. "Think I'll sleep a bit more," she said before he would have time to run through the whole menu.

He nodded as though she could see him, and then, realizing his mistake, said, "You do that."

Daniel twisted around on his other side and mumbled, "What you eating?"

"Ahh," Jack answered him, "that's the million dollar question. It might be enchiladas, it might not...want some?"

Daniel wiggled about and sat up next to him. "Sure...but I'll get my own, thanks." Jack could hear him rooting about. After a moment of it, Carter sat back up and dug around near her before thrusting an arm over him towards Daniel.

"Here," she said. "You got a canteen handy?"

"Thanks...yep, right here," Daniel said. He shook it so they could hear the water slosh. "What are you guys doing up anyway?"

"Trying to sleep," Sam answered him, once again wiggling down to stretch out.

"Oh," Daniel said.

"She's trying to sleep," Jack clarified. "I'm enjoying this fine...meatloaf. Yep, I definitely think this is meatloaf." Suddenly he gave a stifled 'umph'. Daniel guessed Sam had socked him. "Whoa there, Major! You wouldn't be looking for a court martial would you?"

"What? Me?" Sam said all innocence, "It's the close quarters, Sir. Didn't mean to hit you."

"I'm sure you didn't," Jack started but was interrupted by Teal'c's next radio call. He finished his meal while his teammates assured one another they were all still alive. He stretched his cramped legs and painfully wiggled his still aching toes. They burned and tingled, and he counted that as a good sign. Circulation had at least returned to the area. He could count himself lucky on that score...and on just about any other as well. The blizzard was still venting its malice on the world outside their cave, but he was almost warm where he lay. He'd lost them all the day before, but they were all present or accounted for now. Worse for the wear no doubt, regardless of what Carter wanted him to believe, but alive and whole. Things could have been so much worse.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Their first time opening the Gate after the forced twelve-hour wait, afforded General Hammond and his people no joy. The storm was still pouring its fury out on p2G-129.

Swallowing down his disappointment, he looked down into the GateRoom where Siler had a UAV torn apart and scattered over the floor. He was carefully wrapping every essential cable and instrumentation in insulating material. It was something he shouldn't have to be hobbling together with duct tape and a prayer. The general had sent in Major Carter's and the engineers' specs for outfitting the fool thing to withstand freezing temperatures after the last time SG-1 had been presumed missing on a frozen world. It should have been ready when he had the need to call for it. Instead, it had arrived on base with warnings it wasn't likely to withstand the weather on p2G-129, and unless conditions improved considerably he wouldn't be allowed to launch it.

It was incompetence at a level he would not have permitted on his base, and it wouldn't go unreported. But, fuming did nothing except distract him from what really mattered. He'd sat idly by while good men died before. It was something that did not sit well with him, and he wasn't about to do it again. He'd pulled a few strings and gotten permission to allow Siler to make what improvements he could and the go-ahead for a launch IF the wind had dropped to acceptable levels. He'd turned the project over to Siler knowing the man would do what needed to be done and waited impatiently for the hours to pass.

But, there'd been no hurry. With a sigh he ordered the waiting rescue teams to stand down. Janet Frasier, who he'd called back from a 3-day pass, looked up at him from the GateRoom floor as though he could will the mission to go ahead. But, he had his orders, and he gave his own, "Shut the Gate, Sergeant...I've seen enough snow to last me a lifetime."


	6. Chapter 6

Later, sometime in the pre-dawn hours of their second day on the planet, the stalled, rushing winds at the storm's front finally pushed on. O'Neill and his teammates awoke to the sudden calm left in its wake as though to a gunshot. The silence echoed painfully in their still somewhat burning ears along with the startled pulsing of their own hearts and the ragged breathing of their companions.

Not yet cognizant of what had awakened them, O'Neill and Carter both jerked to alertness. O'Neill's tortured body had not yet recovered sufficiently for the abrupt activity...his muscles spasmed painfully. He hunched back over with a cry of pain. Sam's head hit the roof covering them all with a cold, icy shower of loosened snow. Cringing, she waited for the colonel to recover enough to give her a strong tongue-lashing, but instead he and Daniel burst into explosive laughter.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Teal'c made his way out of a deep state of kel-no-reem to welcome the silence. Carefully stretching his long, unused muscles, he made preparations to push out of his hollow and see in what condition the storm had left the world.

When he had dug his way out once again, he found it hadn't left at all. The wind had died down, but the snow still came in large, wet flakes that stuck to his eyelashes and the fur lining of his parka hood and continued to blanket the world without let up. His watch told him it was night still on p2G-129, but the snow gave its own muted light. He blinked in its glittering brightness. He lifted his face to the sky and let the flakes land on his tongue like a child. Then he fingered his radio and called his friends.

"I will open the Gate and send for help, O'Neill," he announced, little realizing the impossibility of that promise. Even for a man as large and strong as Teal'c, forcing his way through the drifted snow was an overwhelming task. It had built up in places as high as his shoulders with a hard, cutting crust that would not support his weight. Floundering through it was a slow and draining process. He could only force onward a few steps before he would have to stop and recover from his exertions. Glancing back at the way he'd come, he discovered the snow was making greater strides in covering up his path than he was forging it. He was forced to turn back.

It was a bitter blow to admit he could not cover the short distance around the Gate and to the DHD before he dropped from fatigue and chill, but it was necessary. His collapse would not aid his friends. He trudged back along his hard-fought path attempting to widen it as he did so. He would rest and return to the challenge. If on every attempt, he could push forward that little bit more he might yet reach help before their food supply ran out.

And failing that, he could attempt to reach the Gate by the same route he had left it...he could scale the stone wall that had sheltered him through the blizzard. It would not be a difficult climb except for the weather conditions. With rope, he was confident he could make it if necessary. Still, he thought going around the wiser of his two choices...he would exhaust its possibilities first.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

His teammates received his news stoically. Daniel and Sam had already been trapped with a conscious Jack for longer than anyone could realistically be expected to endure and still emerge with their sanity intact. And considering they were stressed and not exactly at the top of their game to begin with...still, they hardly wanted Teal'c to drop dead from overexerting himself when it wasn't like they were dying. Of course, if Jack sang, "Oh My Darling Clementine" one more time, he might be as Sam had just been explaining to him when Teal'c had called.

Jack himself was well aware he was pushing his cavemates too far. Yet, it helped pass the time and keep his mind off the burning in his fingers and toes and theirs off of their rapidly dwindling supplies. Anyway, he didn't actually think the major would really tear him apart piece by piece just for singing "Oh My Darling Clementine". True, he'd never been asked to join the choir in school and it was a perfectly annoying song, but surely it didn't rate execution?

"How about another round of '99 Bottles' then?" he asked trying to sound innocent and smirking at their groans behind the cover of darkness.

"Do you mind if I kill him before you dismember him, Sam?" Daniel asked just as innocently and brushed ice crystals from the wall onto them when he had to flinch away from Jack's elbow.

"I suppose not," she answered. "Go ahead."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Hammond hovered behind Walter's back and willed the Gate to connect faster. The circle had, it seemed, never turned quite as slowly as it was now. Below him the rescue teams milled about waiting for his go-ahead. The UAV was prepped for launch, and this time...this time there'd be a break in the weather...please, Dear God, an honest-to-goodness break in the weather and a chance to end this infinite, useless waiting.

The Gate whooshed open in its customarily dramatic fashion, the new instrumentation pack was tossed through, and the wait was on again until the data started rolling in. The techs buzzing around him knew before he did. Their tightlipped, downcast expression told him everything he didn't want to know.

"Sorry, Sir," his head tech said, staring at the information as though he could force it to read what he wanted if he were only intent enough. "The wind's died down, but visibility is extremely poor due to heavy snowfall. And the temperature is still well below zero."

That was it then. They'd have to scrap the UAV launch, and they wouldn't be sending in the troops. He made a half-hearted attempt to reach SG-1 by radio and then shut down the Gate. Minutes later, he would have at least had the satisfaction of making contact with Teal'c. But as it were, his timing couldn't have been worse.

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Teal'c had made five forays out to try to forge a path around the Gate to the DHD. Every time he'd had to fall back before he could make any significant headway. He would push through the same several feet of fresh, wet snow and then hit the drifts. The second and third time, he'd managed to press on far enough through them that he had still hoped the venture might be a success given enough time. But, he'd failed to consider the amount of energy the effort was costing him. Even with kel-no-reeming in-between his times out, he felt himself growing weaker. In addition, his outer clothing was becoming soaked with the wet snow coating it and his inner from sweat. The wetter he became the more the cold drained the strength from him. He could not continue in this manner.

It was time to scale the wall. On his five unsuccessful attempts, he had yet to gain anywhere near the ground he'd have to in order to reach the DHD from the other side. Although there was little reason to hope what lay beyond the Gate would be any easier to force his way through, he felt he had to try. It would be burning his bridges, as O'Neill would say. He wouldn't have his shelter to fall back to-it would be trampled in the process.

But, there was always the chance that the way would be clearer. And he had been husbanding his energy, holding it back for whatever else he would be required to do on this frozen planet. That wouldn't be an issue any longer if he succeeded in dialing Earth. Reinforcements would arrive and do what he could not. He could make an all-out, no holds barred run push.

In preparation, he ate his last two MRE's. Though, like O'Neill, he'd avoided using the heater pouches believing they might be needed later, this time he ate his food hot. Its warmth washed through him and stopped the shivers that had begun to plague him.

Then he called his teammates to inform them of his intentions.

"In this snow?" O'Neill yelled at him over the radio. "Are you insane? You'll fall to your death!"

"I've rope, O'Neill," he answered calmly. "Tauri children climb higher walls in play arenas. The wall barely extends over my head. Even if I fall, it will not kill me."

"Actually, that's true," Daniel cut in. "I took the expressway off that wall myself...and I'm ok."

Jack ignored the interruption. "With safety halters, Teal'c! And not in the snow! And if you can't make it through the drifts from where you are, what in the world makes you think you'll do any better over the top?"

Teal'c was well aware of the difficulties O'Neill was raising and others as well. His parka and pack would encumber him on his climb but be essential over the top. His hands and feet had grown numb in the wet snow. His muscles were still stiff from his enforced inactivity of the previous day and night. But, often difficulties must be faced in order to accomplish what must be accomplished.

This was the only course of action available if he hoped to bring aid to his friends before their condition worsened. He could not wait too long. Already their food would be running short. The depth of the snow was growing at an alarming rate. O'Neill's radio batteries had failed. Increasingly, the others' cut in and out and threatened to follow suit. If he waited too long and their beacons were lost, the task of locating them would be almost impossible. He might have waited too long already. Any rescue would have the same difficulty pushing through the heavy snow and drifts as he had. Even with snowmobiles and functioning beacons, it might take their rescuers too long to reach them.

And so, he did not allow O'Neill's arguments to deter him, "I will be all right, O'Neill. The distance from the platform to the DHD is not far. There is no need for concern."

"I don't like it," O'Neill persisted as though Teal'c had never spoken. "This snow's bound to stop sooner or later. Sit it out another day." Teal'c, his decision already made, chose to not acknowledge O'Neil's order. He switched off the radio and hoped O'Neill would incorrectly assume his batteries were weak. They were not. Once out from behind the dampening effect of the wall, they could have easily picked up the call Hammond made moments later.

Unlike the climbing walls on Earth, there were no hand or toeholds to aid him in his climb. His roping skills left a lot to be desired, and the snow falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision didn't help. Neither did the numbness of his hands or the precariousness of his footing. He'd edged himself as high as he could onto the icy crust of the snowdrift where any sudden move could send him crashing through or sliding down. Even so, securing the rope to the Gate went more smoothly than he had hoped. Testing it with his weight, he nodded his head in satisfaction.

O'Neill's wrath would be more easily appeased if, when he learned of Teal'c's insubordination, he was already well on his way to being rescued. Scaling the wall would be quick enough, and then it all depended on the other side. It had occurred to him that the stairway would quite likely be clear. Surely, the general had opened the Gate from time to time in an attempt to contact them...the opening vortex would have vaporized whatever snow had built up in its path. He should have a good start in reaching the Gate before O'Neill began to suspect he had disobeyed his order.

Scaling the wall did not overly concern him. The weather and his compromised physical conditions would complicate matters, but he had climbed much higher edifices under enemy fire and the cover of night. The snow quickly soaked into his rope and froze on its surface as was only to be expected. With perseverance and determination, that was only a minor setback. His flailing feet totally kicked his shelter apart trying to find purchase on the sheer, slippery wall, but finally he succeeded. He pulled his body above the top of the Gate platform, swung his weight towards it to plant his feet on the top, and then-the Gate whooshed open vaporizing his rope.

His left leg banged into the side of the wall with enough force to crack bone, and his head hit the top of it as he came crashing down. He'd assured O'Neill the fall, if it came, would not kill him. But, people died from falling off chairs in their dining rooms. Jaffa falling from stone walls in freezing temperatures were no less vulnerable. By the time the general's radio call came through, he was out cold. His crumpled body had settled half into the remains of the snowdrift, and the snow falling over him soaked up the blood flowing from his left temple and turned a bright red.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sir, please!" Carter exclaimed, biting back as much of her exasperation, pain, and embarrassment as possible as she inched herself farther into the cold wall. Besides, standing out in the cold, wet snow and chilly air, there was nowhere to go to escape the colonel's anxious maneuverings. She'd only just returned from doing just that. Her teeth were still chattering to prove it.

O'Neill removed his elbow from the area of her chest and muttered, "Sorry, Carter. Guess I'll take it outside."

"Please!" Daniel said under his breath and Carter said, "Thank you, Sir."

He clambered out and stared into the snow. They hadn't heard from Teal'c in over an hour. Which if he could be trusted to follow orders would all be fine and good. O'Neill had ordered radio chatter cut to the minimum, and they'd gone to 4-hour regular contacts.

But, he knew good and well, the Jaffa wasn't warm and snug in his snowdrift where he'd been ordered to stay. No, he'd disobeyed a direct order and made a foolhardy attempt to scale that wall in this blasted snow. And now where was he? He should have triumphantly called to announce his success in reaching the top of the platform long before this.

O'Neill turned and leaned over, pushing his head in past the balled up parkas. "Let me have your radio, Carter," he said, and she dutifully handed it over. Blinking against the snowflakes batting into his eyes, he scowled at its readouts and wished for a tricorder instead. It was impossible to know how far they'd come before holing up. If the wind had been blowing as directly against the Gate as he thought it had, and it had blown Daniel and Carter here in three hours while he'd taken another couple to stumble in...they were too far to reach Teal'c before nightfall even if they could be sure of the direction. He sighed.

"Teal'c, come in," he called into the radio as though Sam hadn't made the same fruitless attempt not ten minutes ago.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The symbiote had sensed its danger and was growing ever more agitated. It banged itself against the pouch walls enclosing it and sent chemical messages of urgency out into the Jaffa's bloodstream. Its actions were not enough. The head wound had been easy enough to repair...the cold temperatures had been beneficial in that regard. But, replacing the lost blood and healing the leg would take time. And time was one thing the cold would not give it. The body's temperature had already dropped enough to cause the symbiote discomfort. A further, significant drop would first incapacitate and then kill it. It was an eventuality the Goa'uld was helpless to change on its own.

It found an unlikely ally in O'Neill, the Tauri credited with bringing down Ra and Apophis, the Tauri who had sent Hathor to her icy death with his bare hands. His decision to abandon normal radio procedure and move on to a louder, more aggressive, and far less appropriate means of communication tipped the balance in the symbiote's favor. Between the agitation of the symbiote and his friend's incessant and angry ranting, Teal'c slowly blinked his way to awareness.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"Jack!" Daniel cut into O'Neill's angry venting, "You've successfully informed the entire planet of your opinion of Teal'c...is it really necessary to move on to his mother?" Jack's answering glare could have melted through their snowdrift, but Daniel wasn't intimidated.

Not anymore. The hard-nosed Air Force colonel he'd followed to Abydos all those years before...he had been intimidating, but, the man standing before him now? Nah. There were plenty who tried to become one with the wall or disappear into the floor when Jack passed by, but Daniel was no longer among their number. He would by no means want the anger Jack was obviously feeling to be directed at him, but he'd seen too much of the man inside the colonel to fear him anymore. Not after all that had happened between them on Abydos and all the years since. It was hard to fear a man who had taken you home when you had nowhere else to go; a man who had held you while you cried into his shoulder and wiped your dripping nose on his sleeve. Jack had clutched him in a welcoming embrace and rubbed his hair like a little boy upon finding him alive after he'd been forced to leave him for dead. All of Jack's snubs and his annoying habit of discounting Daniel's opinions and concerns had faded in the face of such behaviors along with his fears.

He stepped beside Jack to offer his understanding and support. Not with words. Words rarely failed Daniel, but they frequently fell far short when Jack was around. The man was purposely obtuse at the best and hopelessly inhibited in using verbal language to express what really mattered. No, the way to talk to Jack was a firm pat on the back, a passing grasp on his upper arm, or standing shoulder to shoulder beside him and letting him read what he wanted into your silence. So Daniel stood shivering in the chill air and waited for his presence to bring some measure of peace to his friend.

Regardless of the glare, Jack's vocal venting had died down as soon as Daniel had spoken, and the silence around them was vast and unbroken. Snowflakes melted on their cheeks and froze on their parkas' fluff, puffs of water vapor rose from their mouths to be lost in the maze of falling flakes, and the freezing air burned down their throats and into their lungs without a sound.

The silence stretched between them as strong and comforting as the rope Sam had used to bind them to her in the wind. It was a companionable silence that spoke all the things Jack would never find it in himself to listen to, let alone utter. It wasn't Daniel's preferred way of communication, but it was Jack's. So Daniel patiently waited for the silence to say what needed said. Eventually, he knew Jack would turn to him, clasp an arm over his back for a brief second, and break the silence to say something inane like, "I'm freezing my butt off out here-let's go in," and they'd return to Sam and the warmth of their ice cave.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Teal'c's world, on the other hand, was far from silent. Gasps and cries of pain accompanied his every movement as he struggled to pull himself somewhat upright, work off his backpack, and find his survival blanket and supply of pain meds. Regular Tauri pain medications had proven ineffective on his Jaffa physiology, but at a high enough dose they gave him a few minutes of relative relief. The symbiote, still agitating within his pouch, would negate their effects soon enough, but he desperately needed those few minutes to rise above the pain and clear his thoughts.

He was vaguely aware he'd never answered O'Neill. There would be time for that later...if he decided it was wise. If he were strong enough to endure the worry and emotion below the enraged words O'Neill would throw at him. If he could face the knowledge he had failed his friends. Now was not the time for such things. He must set his mind to survival.

The snow had piled over him like a blanket before he'd regained consciousness. Hurting and too weak to dig, he would have to rely on its dubious insulation to stand between him and the elements. Already late afternoon had fallen and the temperature was sinking lower and lower. He snuggled as deeply as he could into the shattered ice crystals of his former shelter and pulled his blanket over and around him. Overtaken with violent shivering, there was little else he could do.

The shivering served its purposes; raising his body temperature enough the symbiote was able to shake off the effects of the cold. The symbiote threw off the effects of the medication as well. Then it went about its business of counteracting the frostbite that had begun to eat away at Teal's fingertips and right ear. It was in no condition to tackle the injured leg as of yet, but there might yet be time for that.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

His nervous energy spent for the time being, O'Neill had returned to the ice-cave shivering and subdued. It was a mood matched by the others, and one he felt duty bound to dispel as quickly as possible. Depression would zap the life out of them as fast as the cold. He decided the antidote was food, hot food.

He expansively announced, "Time for the heaters, folks...I for one am ready for something hot." He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically and was rewarded for his acting abilities with some hot mac and cheese that, regardless of Daniel's assertions to the contrary, did not taste a bit like chicken and, with it, a bit of heated conversation as well.

"Come on, Daniel! Stroganoff maybe, but chicken! They're worlds apart!"

"Chicken, Jack...it tastes like chicken! And not edible chicken either," Daniel asserted. In mock disgust, Sam traded her enchiladas for Daniel's mac and cheese and a bit of quiet. Personally, she had never seen the need to complain about the MRE's and less so when presented with the first hot meal and drink she'd had in two days. And unless they used the rest of their heaters up drinking hot water, the last. They'd be down to the odds and ends of their rations after this. A fact of which they were all aware but by common consent ignored for the moment.

For every meal they'd eaten, they'd put aside the extras so that by now they had quite a stash of dry crackers and cookies. Combined with the energy bars, Snickers, brownies, jerky, and similar snack foods they commonly slipped into the zippered pockets of their vests when going offworld, they wouldn't be in any danger of starving for sometime yet. Still, it was an uncomfortable feeling knowing the storm was showing no signs of letting up and they'd finished the MRE's.

"Hammond won't wait much longer before he comes after us," the colonel said around his last bite of the meal.

"No, of course not," Sam murmured in agreement. She'd expected to at least have heard from the SGC long before this...it didn't seem likely they were within range to receive transmissions from Teal'c hunkering down at the back of the Gate and not those sent through the Gate. But, even if they were, Teal'c was more than in-range to receive from the Gate. Yet, as far as they knew there had been no contact attempts at all.

She'd kept her concerns to herself so far and saw no reason to quit doing so now. Her growing fears help wasn't on its way would not do any of them any good. Not that she doubted the general. Over and over, he'd proven he would do what had to be done to keep the door open back home until every team was safely accounted for. They never had to fear being left and forgotten with him in charge. But, where in the universe was he? Where was the comforting sound of his voice reassuring them that even if conditions were potentially too dangerous to send in reinforcements, people were working on it, that they hadn't been forgotten, weren't abandoned?

The colonel's hand briefly settled on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "He'll come, Carter," he said as though she'd argued against his assertion instead of agreeing with it.

She opened her mouth to give him a confidant, 'I know, Sir,' but, realizing even in the dark the man could read her like a book, she gave it up as useless. Every worry she had, he'd already chewed up and digested. She couldn't hide them from him. "Thank you, Sir," she said instead and knew he was nodding his head in acknowledgement even though she couldn't see him.

"So what do you say about a rousing game of twenty questions?" the colonel asked in his morale officer voice. She and Daniel both groaned in response.

"Oh, come on," he wheedled. "I won't think of anything about hockey if you promise to quit coming up with old, dead physicists and Daniel promises to only use English words."

"Forget it," they both answered. He gave an exaggerated, aggrieved sigh for their benefit. Twenty questions was one of his least favorite games, right up there with-

"We could play chess," Carter said hopefully.

-playing chess on an imaginary board in the dark. "Nah," he said, "You've already taken us both to the cleaners, Carter. You've won all my jerky and my yo-yo..."

"For which I am eternally grateful," Daniel said. Sharing such tight accommodations with Jack was tough enough, sharing them with Jack and a yo-yo was pure torture. If Sam hadn't won possession of the annoying thing, and IF Jack had hit him in the chin (or anywhere else) with it ONE more time...well, he thought he might have strangled the man with its string. "Though, I'd like a chance to win back my lexicon," he added.

"Nope, nope, nope," Jack answered him before Sam had a chance. "All bets are final."

"Sure, you say that now," Daniel retorted.

"You bet I do...you've thunked me with that oversized book the last time!"

"Well, if you would have quit snapping your watch cover when I asked you, I wouldn't have had to whack you."

"You know if you were military...whacking your commanding officer with a lexicon, a whopping, big lexicon-a whopping big lexicon, I might add, which had no bearing on this mission and should have been left earthside to begin with- is a court-martialable offense."

"Court-martialable? Is that even a word? And I'm not military, so there."

Sam leaned her head forward on her knees and smiled into the dark. No one was fooled; the banter was nothing more than a cover for their anxiety over their missing teammember. Still, it felt good to smile. "It's a word, Daniel," she said.

"Oh, sure! Take his side," Daniel whined.

"You're welcome on my side anytime, Carter," Jack said. "And as allies, how about letting me use your yo-yo?"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Back at Cheyenne Mountain, the longer SG-1 was out of contact the slower time passed. It was the sort of phenomena Janet had become all too familiar with in her years as chief medical officer for the base. Whenever a team ran into trouble, a time-shift occurred under the Mountain. The SGC would go from Mountain Standard Time to what she'd taken to calling WKU Time, short for How-Long-Can-This-Go-On-Before-the-Waiting-Kills-Us Time.

WKU Time was a health hazard directly related to GateTravel. It put everyone on the base in medical and emotional jeopardy. Accidents doubled in the labs, the kitchen, and even in the hallways. Every ulcer she'd ever had to treat on the compound had shown its ugly head on WKU Time. A full 80 per cent of the emotional breakdowns she'd dealt with in her tenure at the SGC (which were surprisingly few when you looked at what these people did on a daily basis) had happened under the time-shift.

And they were in the midst of a doozy one now. She was tempted to get up and give the clock on the infirmary wall a good, sharp tap seeing it hadn't bothered to register a change for an indeterminate amount of time in any time zone. Instead, she finished writing up the latest in a long string of accident reports on Siler. Honestly, the man was a menace to himself on a normal day; she should restrict him to a padded room whenever WKU Time went into effect! His file was almost as full as Daniel's, and he'd never even gone offworld. At least, he hadn't landed himself in an infirmary bed this time. A few stitches and an ice pack had sent him on the way towards his next disaster waiting to happen.

She sighed, glanced back up at the clock on the wall, tapped the unmoving second-hand on her wristwatch, and sighed again. It would be a long wait before they could attempt contacting SG1 again. With a decisive snap she closed the report, jumped to her feet, and then sat back again. General Hammond had absolutely forbidden her to appear at his office asking for news he didn't have even one more time. She had nowhere else to go except the coffee machine and her quarters. She'd already almost single-handedly emptied the coffee machine twice already this shift and there was no use lying down...she never slept on WKU Time.


	8. Chapter 8

Teal'c roused from his kel-no-reem feeling immeasurably better. He wasn't exactly warm. However, his teeth were no longer chattering, and he only had the occasional shiver as long as he lay still and didn't move. The pain in his leg which earlier had left him gasping had faded considerably. There was a throbbing in his head, but again lying still kept it at a manageable level. All in all, his symbiote had done a respectable job with what it had to work with. O'Neill would doubtlessly be pleased...if Teal'c chose to inform him of the situation.

One of the difficulties of placing himself in league with a rash, impulsive race like the Tauri, was finding himself under the command of a man like O'Neill: he was the man who'd unflinchingly met his eyes from the wrong end of a staff weapon and promised he could stop the endless killing if only Teal'c would give him the chance; and he was the man who had not failed to fulfill that promise. Colonel O'Neill was a warrior Teal'c would gladly fight alongside all of his days despite the man's faults, which were many, and a comrade-in-arms with whom it was Teal'c's honor to serve.

There was no question. O'Neill was a man who was, in so many ways, worthy of his respect and allegiance. But he was also an irrational man, more child than adult, who acted first and thought later-if even then. He endangered himself and those under his command with his arrogance and impulsiveness. He mocked Goa'uld to their faces and dared them to stop him...often to his own hurt and to that of those under his command. He expected his subordinates to suffer his foolishness and his foul moods patiently though he himself had no patience for theirs. He reveled in the irrelevant and disdained the important. His command decisions were frequently at odds with Teal'c's years of experience, training, and instincts. He was a difficult man to like...and an even more difficult man to serve under.

Yet no matter how foolish or ill-thought out his orders seemed, more often than not they brought about better than could have been predicted results. Too often for it to be either accidental or coincidental. Behind the child playing guns and war games, there was a man winning a war against impossible odds. It was a war Teal'c was committed to see won, and so, in spite of O'Neill's shortcomings, he'd sworn his allegiance to him. He'd placed himself under the Tauri's command, and Teal'c knew, regardless of how O'Neill might rant at him for his actions, he owed him the truth both as his commanding officer and as his friend. For despite the Tauri's many faults, Teal'c counted it one of his greatest honors to be called O'Neill's friend.

His hand shook when he raised the radio to make the call. Not because he feared O'Neill's reaction-he dreaded it and he hated it for how it would make the man he considered his friend seem petty and small, but he did not fear it. His hand shook from weakness because his blood and strength had drained out of him, hot and red in the snow. It shook because for all he'd thought O'Neill the one making foolish command decisions, his had proven to be no wiser.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Sam lay in the dark listening to the breathing of her cavemates. Daniel's was the controlled even breaths of a man lying awake worrying, not unlike her own. The colonel's were the deep, tight breaths of a man in pain. It was his feet, she thought. She'd insisted he unwrap and care for them twice the day before and, for all his grousing, she knew he had. She'd pulled out the stuff blocking the cave opening so he'd have a bit of light to work by, and she'd stood by until it was done to her satisfaction. She'd thought he'd managed to avoid any permanent damage, but she'd heard him into the pain meds several times throughout the day, and now...maybe things were worse than she'd suspected.

After a time, when the pain seemed to have faded, Daniel's breath deepened into the slow breath of sleep. And then the colonel quietly spoke, "Give it up, Carter." She was surprised he'd acknowledged her awareness of his difficulty. Usually, he would have pretended they hadn't noticed and would have expected them to do the same. "I'll survive. You don't have to be lying there thinking of amputating my toes when I fall asleep."

"Wouldn't think of it, Sir," she said truthfully, "but, are you sure they're all right?"

"Just burning...no blisters, no black spots...I've seen frostbite, Carter, and I don't got it. They're fine."

She thought he might be protesting too much but it wouldn't do to push him any farther. "Yes, Sir," she said.

"You worry too much, you know?"

"Do I?"

"Yea, you ought to try relaxing...do you wonders." It was the sort of statement he said from time to time as though he was qualified to lecture her on relaxing.

"What about you, Sir? You don't worry too much?" Her tone came out more challenging than she'd meant. She mentally cringed waiting for his response.

For a moment he didn't answer, and she thought he might have decided pretending to sleep would be the best response. But then he said, "Sometimes it feels like worrying is the only thing I can do to keep you guys safe...if I quit, it would be like walking away and leaving you on your own. I mean, I lie here and I think as long as I stay awake and keep thinking about him, he has to be all right."

Oh. What had ever moved her to question him about it, and what in the world was she supposed to say to that?

He moved closer to her and put an arm over her shoulder. "You'll be in my place one day, Carter, with a command of your own. So get some sleep while you can. Leave the lying awake all night stewing to me... you guys have given me plenty of practice, I'm good at it."

She ducked her head into his chest and blinked back unexpected tears. "Yes, Sir," she said, her voice muffled against him. He reached a hand up and stroked her hair like a child until she fell asleep. Being this close to her was an indulgence he rarely allowed himself. Under ordinary circumstances, he'd have found a way to switch places with Daniel and take the side farthest from her.

Not because he didn't trust her, but because he didn't trust himself. She was his weakness, his Achilles heel...but then they all were: Daniel, the kid brother he outwardly disdained and inwardly delighted in. No one could get under his skin quite as easily. And no one could make him feel more like a parent forced to say no though wanting more than anything to say yes. There was no one he hated disappointing more than Daniel though it happened often enough they both should be used to it by now. And there was Teal'c, the man he most admired, the one he wanted always at his back in trouble and at his side in battle. And then there was Carter.

It didn't do to think of what she meant to him...anymore than it did to be this close to her. He should have moved as soon as he was able; he should have kept their carefully maintained distance. But, when he'd awakened to find himself not freezing to death, but very much alive with Daniel on one side and her on the other...their presence had warmed him much more than just physically. And their quiet support had held him up while the fire of awakening flesh had pursued him like the hounds of hell.

They hadn't needed to do anything but be there. Alive and out of the cold. He'd needed their closeness, needed to know they weren't lost in the storm, needed to know his negligence hadn't cost them their lives. And they'd accepted his need, anticipated it even, cocooning him between them like he and Sarah had Charlie when he'd woken with a nightmare in the night. They'd surrounded him with their warmth and love as though he belonged in it. But...

They were golden children living in a world of warmth and light in which he did not belong. He'd thought he had at one time. He'd married Sarah in the midst of sunlight and laughter and thought he could live with her in a world far removed from the world of black and gray in which he walked. They'd brought Charlie into their world of light, and it had all come crashing down on him on a sunny, summer afternoon when the laughter had ended abruptly with the echo of a single gunshot. The world he'd lived in and the world he walked in had collided into one another, the sun had vanished into the night, and he'd been left out in the cold where he belonged.

As though sensing his distress, Carter wiggled closer to him in her sleep. He softly kissed the top of her head and knew he shouldn't be so close to her. Tomorrow or tonight even, the first time Daniel headed out into the cold, he'd wiggled over against the far wall and turn his face to its cold blackness and his back to their warmth. It was the only way he knew to keep them safe from his world.


	9. Chapter 9

"O'Neill, are you there?" Teal'c's voice broke into O'Neill's thoughts and startled the others awake. Daniel flung out an arm and clunked him, Carter jerked her head up and collided with his chin, and then they were all scurrying to locate her radio in the dark. She found it first and pushed it into his outstretched hand as though she understood his need to be the one who took this call.

"Teal'c, old buddy," he said, his voice quiet and deceptively calm, "Where ya been?"

"I regret to inform you, O'Neill that I failed in my attempt to reach the DHD."

"So you've been trying to push your way through all this time?" he asked. "Then why didn't you answer the phone?"

There was a hesitant pause that they were not prepared to hear coming from Teal'c. It told them much they didn't want to know. "I suffered a fall trying to scale the wall-"

"I told you to stay off that thing!" O'Neill whose quiet had quickly escalated into a shout thundered at him.

"Yes, you did, but I did not. I am sorry."

"Yea, well, you should be...what's your situation?"

"I have sustained an injury to my leg, but my symbiote is progressing in making the necessary repairs."

"Uh huh," O'Neill said to show he was not fooled into believing things were as simple as Teal'c's calm words and quiet tone implied.

"It is of concern only in the fact it will hinder my attempt to inform General Hammond of our situation," Teal'c said in an attempt to reassure O'Neill. It was an attempt that was no more successful than his climb over the wall had been.

"We're coming after you, Teal'c," the colonel said in a tone that clearly said it was settled and there was no use in arguing.

"Jack?" Daniel asked from one side of him. "How are we doing that? You know, seeing the last I looked it's still snowing, and we don't even know where he is.

As usual, Jack ignored him. "You hear me, Teal'c? We are coming after you."

"I hear you, O'Neill."

"Good then. We've got to clean house and pull on our clean clothes…give us ten minutes then shoot your revolver—tell me you still have it with you?"

"I do. I have lost nothing but my rope," Teal'c said though it wasn't true; he'd lost his pride and assurance as well. He chose to keep that to himself along with the true extent of his injuries.

"Good. Give us ten minutes, fire it twice, and await further instructions...if you don't hear from us, assume we've lost the radio and continue to fire at regular intervals as long as you can."

"Understood," Teal'c answered and signed off.

"Pack it up folks, and bundle up...we're going for a walk." Carter wordlessly pressed two energy bars into his hand. She'd already torn them open, and he winced at the reminder she didn't feel he was fit for duty. He agreed, but he'd rather she didn't have to know it.

They emerged from their manmade cave into the silent, snow-lit night to discover the storm had broken. They stood trying to adjust to breathing the cold, biting air without coughing and took in their situation. Two moons, one full and one barely a sliver, showed faintly through the thinning clouds. The hill that had provided them shelter for the past days stretched on into the distance behind them. Otherwise the land was flat and marked only by wind-sculptured waves of snow. Not content with its masterpiece, the wind swept along the barren landscape blowing snow here and there and dropping it where it would. The swirling snow seemed to take on a life of its own, like a creeping mist or spectral dancers moving to music not audible to their human observers.

O'Neill surveyed the scene with satisfaction. The heavy drifts Teal'c had encountered were not a problem here. They had a good chance of making headway in the foot or so of fresh snow that covered most of the ground. It wouldn't be a walk in a winter wonderland, but it would be doable. The wind gusts were nothing compared to what they'd encountered before, and that was all to the good. The temperature though would only continue to drop as the blanketing insulation of the clouds cleared. They'd need to move fast to avoid being in it any longer than was necessary. But, it couldn't be as bad as they'd experienced in the brunt of the storm.

The problem was they weren't as able as they'd been then. They were all, he guessed, not yet recovered from their earlier battles against the elements. Perhaps, it would be best if Teal'c's gunshots didn't carry to them through the cold brittle air and they were forced back into their shared confinement. But, the shots did carry. They reached them so faintly and indistinctly that he didn't even flinch. They stared at one another and strained to locate their direction and couldn't come to a consensus. The colonel cast the deciding vote by pointing his painfully, aching feet straight away from their abandoned temporary home and setting off expecting them to follow.

Their trek across the frozen prairie seemed endless. The quiet of the night was broken only by the occasional sound of the wind, Teal'c's periodic shots, the crunch of the snow as they trudged through it, and their own ragged breathing. They had no energy for small talk. What energy they did have, they reserved for ever moving onward chasing Teal'c's elusive gunfire and enduring the burning, stinging of freezing body parts.

This time they were as prepared for the cold as they could be...encased in parkas, hoods, and thick, bulky gloves; and then wrapped in their silver blankets. They'd donned their snow goggles, slathered on the skin protectant, and tucked their canteens of purified, melted snow warmly into their parkas. But, their burning ears, tingling fingers, and numb toes didn't seem to notice the difference. The manuals warned that those who'd been affected by severe cold once could more easily suffer its effects when exposed again...Carter, for one, believed the manuals. She clamped her teeth shut to keep them from chattering, set her eyes on the colonel's unbending back, and pushed on anyway.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Under his blankets of foil and snow, Teal'c waited for his teammates to arrive. He'd consumed the last of his food supply in an act of faith. O'Neill had said he was coming. Hoarding his food would show doubt in O'Neill's ability to keep his word, and somehow, however irrationally, Teal'c felt that this disbelief would be transmitted to his friend and undermine his determination. So, he had eaten the last of his food and exercised his aching leg in preparation for the time he would need to join his friends on the last leg of their trek to the StarGate.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

O'Neill was in trouble. In Teal'c's absence, he believed he belonged at point, but the effort required to break a path through the ice-encrusted snow was killing him. Under the guise of waiting for Teal'c's next shot, he paused. Panting hard, desperately trying to catch his breath, bent almost double with the pain from his aching feet, he wouldn't fool Carter or Daniel. He could continue on and endanger them all with his stubbornness. Or he could accept his limitations and hopefully save them the trouble of having to drag his worthless hide out of here along with Teal'c.

He reluctantly turned to the major as she pulled up behind him. "Take point, Carter," he said, his order an admission he didn't want to make.

She acknowledged his order with a 'yes, Sir' and his admission with the straightening of her shoulders as though she was preparing to hear bad news. "We'll all switch off," he said, trying to assure her he only needed a break before being once again raring to go.

Her 'yes, Sir' sounded unconvinced, but Teal'c's shot came before she could voice her concerns, and she moved off in its direction.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Another hour and they were all struggling. The drifts had begun to deepen and what had already been difficult was becoming close to impossible. They had to stop frequently to gasp in lungfuls of the thin, frigid air. They were spending almost as much time falling in the drifts and pulling one another out as they were making forward progress. Teal'c's bullets had run out, but they were close enough to sight the flares he was now shooting up. Unfortunately, they too would run out soon. He'd hoped to have a strong enough bleep from Teal'c's homing beacon by now to get a fix on his downed teammember, but even Daniel's batteries were so weak they might as well have been dead.

He called a halt long enough to warm water with the chemical water heaters from their MREs. They swallowed it down scorching hot and let its warmth worm it way through them as they plowed on through the snow.

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The UAV thundered down its launch pad and through the Gate the moment the techs had let out their triumphant roar. The general hadn't waited to hear the details. Their jubilation was enough. He motioned the rescue teams through before the smoke had cleared. Janet Frasier, her face obscured by her parka and snow goggles, nodded up at him as she marched up the ramp beside one of the snow mobiles. Now they were getting somewhere.

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The rescue team raised their faces in astonishment when Teal'c's last flare flew up practically behind their backs and burnt itself out in the night sky. As a group they stared after it as though mesmerized and then began a mad dash towards its direction as though the starter's gun had fired. Within minutes, they were able to radio their anxiously waiting commander that they'd recovered Teal'c and were in the process of bringing him home.

"And the rest of SG-1?" he asked, his throat full of hope and fear.

"Negative, Sir, but Teal'c has been in contact up until sometime tonight...he believes they've lost contact due to depleted radio batteries, Sir." Hammond winced at this news he didn't want to hear. He wanted his people out of the weather NOW. But, instead, they were in for another wait. It would take time for the UAV to perform a standard search for their heat signatures. Their locator beacons would have led it right to them.

"I see," he said. "All present and accounted for?"

"Affirmative, Sir." There was that then.

"What's their situation?"

"Teal'c is unsure of their physical condition, Sir. They've had only radio contact since we lost contact with them. They had taken shelter from the storm, but it appears they're on the move now. Trying to reach the Gate...drifts are pretty bad here, Sir. I can't see them coming in on foot. We're waiting on the UAV for a fix on their position, and then we'll move out with the machines. By Teal'c's estimation, they've been out in the weather going on five hours..."

"Understood," Hammond said and breathed out a sigh. He understood all too well. He had a team out there still in serious trouble. Possible injuries, likely suffering from the effects of a prolonged period of forced inactivity, definitely suffering from the effects of a five-hour march in artic conditions. "I trust you to bring them home then."

"Thank you, Sir...we will."

"I know it. Report as soon as the UAV picks up their signal and hourly until then. Hammond out." He flinched when the Gate closed at his command. He had good people out there in trouble, and good people doing all they could to bring them home. And he was stuck holding down the fort and praying for their return.

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They'd hit the wall-not the hoped for solid wall of the Gate platform, but the metaphorical wall that marked the end of the line. They'd hit it hard and fought it hard, but there wasn't enough left in any of them to push on through it. They were all more or less collapsed where they'd broken through the icy, cutting crust of the drift and stayed without the strength to flounder out on their own or together.

"Please, Sir," Carter begged him, breathing hard and almost certainly crying behind her snow goggles, "just a minute...let us rest just one minute."

"Yeah, Jack," Daniel gasped out, "Just one...then we'll go on. Promise we will." He reached out a shaking hand to pat Carter's arm. Seeing it, Jack almost cried himself. They deserved so much better than this. What had made him think they could cover miles when Teal'c hadn't been able to cover yards?

They were both smart people, why hadn't they told him to go jump in a snow bank? Why had they followed him out into the cold? What about him had made them believe he'd see them through? Whatever it was, it had betrayed them-he had betrayed them. He owed them an apology for his foolhardy recklessness that had brought them this far and then disappeared like their puffs of breath in the cold air somewhere in this last drift.

But, he wouldn't give them one. Teal'c put a lot of stock in dying a worthy death...turns out Jack O'Neill did, too. And he wouldn't admit to them he'd failed to give them one. Better to leave them with the idea there had been meaning behind this idiocy rather than just the foolish delusions of an unfit commander.

"Sir?" Carter pleaded with him again. But, he shook his head into her anguished face and wouldn't release them from their duty to carry on. He thought he should. They deserved the peace it would give them. She would have done it for him-had, in fact, done it for him in Antarctica. But, he wouldn't do the same for her or for Daniel. The words would be easy enough to say, "Sure, a minute...it'll be fine...go ahead and rest." But, he couldn't say them. It would, he was certain, be ordering their execution. Death was circling them even now. No matter how else he'd failed them, he wouldn't give it the go-ahead to move in for the kill.

"Come on, Major!" he snarled into her trusting face instead. "We're not stopping here. We're going on. NOW!" He leaned as far over from his stuck position as he could and wagged an angry gloved finger in her face. "Enough of this! If I hear one more complaint out of you-"

"Stop it, Jack! Leave her alone!" Daniel yelled at him. He drew back his arm to strike at Jack, but Carter pulled it back down.

"It's all right, Daniel," she said with resignation in her voice, and something else. "The colonel's right, we can't stay here. We've got to get to Teal'c...we've got to go."

Daniel shook his arm from her grasp and then dropped his head for a moment. "Right," he said once and then again, "right...we've got to go on...sorry, Jack." And then the two of them were clambering out of the drift and dragging him along with them. They over-balanced, and he shot out of the drift and ended up on his already well-chilled rump.

Carter reached out her hand and pulled him up. "Thank you, Sir," she said though he was the one who should have been thanking her. "I don't know what I was...if you hadn't been here..."

Jack couldn't look at her; he couldn't look at either of them. And he couldn't speak. He simply nodded his head, dusted off what he could of the snow and ice coating his parka, and moved off again. He didn't look back to make sure they were following him...God help him, he knew they were.

They heard the snowmobiles before they saw them. They stared dumbly at each other in disbelief and then came to a stumbling stop shoulder to shoulder. They stared at the clouds of driven snow the speeding machines sent out in their wake. Jack gave a shocked snort of disbelief which turned into a paroxysm of coughing on his part and all but hysterical laughing on the part of his teammates. They didn't have the energy to sustain it long and it fizzled out quickly. They straightened up and stared once more towards the sound of the approaching machines. They were still coming...they hadn't disappeared like a mirage in the desert.

The three members of SG-1 looked wonderingly at each. Then Jack shrugged a 'why not' at them and motioned them forward, and they stumbled onward to meet their rescuers.

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Another storm, of only slightly less intensity than the one they'd just escaped, rolled in behind them as the Gate shutdown, but it didn't matter. They'd already come in from the cold.

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Original Author's Notes: _What can I say? I was inspired by the beauty of the wind-blown snow outside and David Laskin's spellbinding blend of history, science, and human tragedy in_ The Children's Blizzard _._

 _In an attempt to keep some connection with reality, I referenced a very informative article on the effects of cold weather on the health and performance of military personnel. The article can be found at: ._

 _Any facts I actually got right can be attributed to either it or David Laskin. Any mistakes can be attributed to laziness, writer's prerogative, and creative license._


End file.
